


The Chemical, Physical Kryptonite

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clubbing, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6803740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~She took my arm, I don't know how it happened~</p><p>Sometimes, even an unenjoyable night in a club can end up in a quiet moment with love songs playing in the background.</p><p>~Don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me~</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chemical, Physical Kryptonite

**A/N:** So  _Civil War_ left me as absolute Wanda/Vision trash, and this is ridiculously fluffy and self-indulgent but give me a break it's 1am and I just have a lot of feelings. Set pre- _Civil War_ , and in the grand tradition of this fandom I've picked and chosen which parts of AOU canon to use (basically just the new characters).

Lyrics in the title and summary from  _Shut Up And Dance_ by Walk The Moon.

* * *

 

Rain patters gently at the tall, wide window of the compound as the radio plaintively sings " _Let me go home."_ The sky is a soft milky grey, clouds bleeding into each other as a single entity, and there's no more noise within the rooms than padding feet and the occasional yawn, the creak of doors and the rattling of the drawers and cupboards as Natasha prepares breakfast, hair still delicately tangled around her sleepy face. Steve has already run in the drizzle, now sitting at the breakfast table reading the paper that he insists on getting delivered, and Sam is hunched up on the couch buried in a book, only looking up when the scent of bacon start to fill the room. "You're so good to us, Nat," he says, and she looks up and smiles faintly.

"You can thank me by getting plates and checking if our remaining team members are awake," she says sweetly, and Steve smirks into the business section as Sam theatrically staggers to his feet. "Remember Clint will be here soon, and Rhodey had an early meeting but will be here as soon as he can."

Grumbling faintly, Sam wanders back towards the bedrooms, once again considering the serious temptation to see what Natasha's hiding - but the probability that it's a lot of extremely lethal weapons stops him, and he instead knocks before opening the door to Vision's room, finding him attentively reading one of the immense textbooks he keeps ordering despite the team's protests. "We're all gathered in the kitchen," he says - he made the mistake of inviting Vision for breakfast once, only to be reminded that his teammate is not human and doesn't eat - and withdraws before he can be pulled into a conversation with the strangely charming man.

Inside the next room is little evidence that there is anyone living there except for the small lump hidden beneath the layers of blankets. Unable to help a wash of warm affection for the girl who fell into their laps broken-hearted and immediately secured a place in each of their hearts, Sam takes a tentative step into the room and asks, "Wanda, you awake?" A rustle, and a tired face emerges from the cocoon and Sam has to swallow a laugh - it never stops being a novelty, seeing his normally put-together teammates early in the morning. "Nat's making breakfast, want to join us?"

Wanda nods once and then drops back into her pillow, and Sam moves away and closes the door with a soft snap, only for the front door to crash open and Clint's voice to ring out, "Good morning Avengers!" He's already fully outfitted for work in a crisp suit and tie, eyes bright and awake, and walks far too heavily for the morning, throwing his briefcase under the island counters and helping himself to a handful of strawberries.

"Well someone's had their coffee," Natasha observes under her breath, and Clint just grins at her. "You're getting served last for that, Barton." Sam laughs at the offended expression Clint effects, and takes a seat next to Steve as the table, reading the TV guide over his shoulder as Natasha serves out their food with a, "You're lucky I tolerate you all."

"You say that like you cook all the time," Clint says, the only one of them brave enough to banter with Natasha at such an early hour. "I happen to know Sam does most of the cooking."

"I think the good folks at the nearest takeaway do most of the cooking," Sam retorts, and Steve grins as he folds the newspaper and sets about eating breakfast. The quiet is companionable and easy, broken only when Rhodes arrives and downs a mug of coffee before even sitting down with them, and the team breakfasts are still the best part of the day, before any of them become too immersed in the reality of their profession.

When Wanda emerges at long last, she's holding a letter and slides easily into the seat next to Vision before passing it across the table to Steve. He slits it open and reads for a moment before explaining, "There's a new club opening in Manhattan and they want us at their first night to help promote it. They say its security measures and reinforced structure were inspired by us fighting the Chitauri there." He looks around the table, meeting each person's eyes, and asks, "What do we think? Should we go?"

"Obviously!" Sam exclaims before anyone else even opens their mouth, and several pairs of eyes swivel to look at him with a potent mixture of surprise and judgement. "C'mon team, we're all constantly worrying about the fate of the world, we deserve a night off. If we can help some people start a business with measures that could protect a lot of people, it's even better."

"That's some sound logic," Clint mumbles around a mouthful of bacon, and Natasha rolls her eyes so exaggeratedly it shocks silence into all of them.

"You just want a night out now you're stuck behind a desk all day," she says, her voice taking on the edge of affectionate scolding it so often does with Clint. "I told you not to retire from the field. You miss it too much."

"Nothing wrong with a night out, Nat," Clint says with a wink, and she looks away with a heavy sigh, though a smile twitches at the corners of her mouth. "Can we go, Steve? We can invite other people too, it'll be great!"

Steve stares at him for a moment, then Sam's hopeful smile, and leans back in his chair with a whoosh of a sigh. "Fine, we'll go," he says, and Clint raises a hand towards Sam for a high-five. "I'll get in touch with the hosts and you can all contact anyone you want to invite along. I'll tell them we'll be around fifteen people."

* * *

It feels like college again, the compound alive with people getting ready for the night out. After a day fraught with the tension of everyone trying to shower without stepping on each other's time, the part of perfecting their post-shower appearances seems easy. Straightening his tie - black with his sharply-cut red suit - Sam walks out of his room into the hallway that has somehow become an extension of the bedrooms, every door open and music filling the room like smoke, something with a beat for swaying hips and clicking fingers and generic lyrics about parties and dancing. With Maria having arrived with Clint, Sharon, Tony and Pepper, the compound is full of noise and the sharp scents of hairspray, perfume and aftershave.

Steve is standing transfixed in Natasha's doorway, and he starts when Sam taps him on the shoulder, twisting to look at him with wide eyes. "The hell are you doing?"

"He's watching the make-up tutorial come to life in there," Clint answers as he passes, smelling very strongly of some aftershave with more than a hint of musk to it. Peering over Steve's shoulder, Sam smiles at how companionable the four women seem - Sharon is sitting on Natasha's bed curling her hair, Natasha is leaning over her vanity very carefully applying eyeliner and Maria is zipping Wanda into her outfit.

"Looking good, ladies!" Sam calls, and can't help but preen a little when Sharon turns to smile at him. Nudging Steve, he murmurs, "Sharon's flirting with me," just to see Steve roll his eyes. "You know it's true. Nothing like a night in a club to bring secret crushes to the surface."

Pepper suddenly emerges from the kitchen, flawless as ever, with her phone in her hand and a serious expression. "Our car will be here in twenty minutes," she says, raising her voice so everyone can hear. "Make sure you have everything with you!" Winking at Sam, she adds, "I'll go retrieve the vain men," and Sam laughs, knowing just how true it is.

The car is due in two minutes before their entire group has successfully assembled, all dressed in what outfits appropriate for clubbing they could drag out of their limited closets. Noticing Natasha's crimson-painted lips curling in a smirk that cannot mean anything good, he follows her gaze to Wanda, standing between Vision and Maria and smiling softly. There's nothing he can see that would have Natasha making such a face - sure, Wanda looks stunning in her backless dress and sneakers, but that's no reason for the expression that strikes fear into the hearts of men, particularly when he's sure Natasha is responsible for the make-up that makes the youngest member of their team look undeniably jaw-droppingly gorgeous. But then Pepper is ushering them out towards the car, and Sharon is sliding her arm into his and smiling, and he doesn't have any more time to wonder why Natasha does anything.

Outside the club is already crawling with paparazzi, camera flashes going off in every direction, violently bright. Tony's driver does his best to shield them as he ushers them to the door, the security guard seeing them and having a moment of wide-eyed wonder before he waves them through. After they've checked in their coats, the darkness of the club with its whirling lights is already intoxicating, the beat working its way into their bones. Clint immediately heads for the dance floor while Steve goes to find them a table, and Sharon squeezes Sam's arm so he looks into her eyes, bright in the light, and she asks, "Buy me a drink?"

"With pleasure," Sam flirts back, and internally yells about his victory when Sharon's smile becomes even flirtier as they move towards the bar.

* * *

Wanda isn't enjoying her night anyone near half as much as most of her teammates. Their table is covered with empty glasses despite the staff periodically coming around to gather them up - there's a collection of untouched drinks in front of her, all purchased by Clint despite her telling him she didn't want anything - and she's watching them all dancing in a cluster right in the middle of the club. Even Steve, whose enhanced metabolism stops the alcohol from having any effect on him, has proved to be a natural at dancing to the beats pounding through the room, and is currently attracting a lot of admiring stares as he dances with Natasha. Sam and Sharon keep periodically vanishing into the crowds, emerging each time a little more ruffled, and Clint appears to be genuinely enjoying himself, dancing and singing along to every song.

"Would you like to return to the compound?" Vision's voice breaks through her reverie, and she looks up into familiar blue eyes, the same gaze that always calms her heart and soothes her soul. "Ms. Potts had the car wait outside, if you wish to leave then we can. I will, of course, escort you home."

"You don't want to stay?" Wanda asks, keeping on eye on the dance floor as the crowd cheers at Steve hoisting a laughing Natasha into the air like they're in some romantic film.

"I cannot become intoxicated, and it seems places like this are far less enjoyable to those who remain sober," he says, and Wanda smiles down at the table. "If you would like it, I can signal to the others that we're leaving. The car can be sent back for when they've had their fill."

"I'd like that," she says, so soft she can barely hear herself over the music, and stands up carefully, picking up a full drink in each hand and walking towards Clint's silhouette on the dancefloor. "Clint!" she shouts over the music, and he whips around unsteadily to look at her, eyes lighting up. "Vizh and I are going back to the compound."

His face falls so quickly and dramatically that it's astounding, and he whines, "No, you have to stay! We're a team, and team's stick together until the end of the night so we can get pizza on the way home."

"Sorry, Clint, it's still an hour and a half until closing time and I'm just not having fun," she says, and understanding blooms in his expression. "But thank you for trying to help me have fun, and all the drinks. They're yours if you want them." Seeing the way he smiles at this revelation, she hastily adds, "But don't overdo it." He nods and hugs her goodbye in a way that he certainly would not be so enthusiastic with sober, and she holds on for a moment before a hand is on hers and she finds Vision already waiting with her coat, wrapping it carefully over her shoulders.

It ends up taking them a further ten minutes to leave, because Natasha notices them leaving and insists on giving them each a long hug goodbye, then Maria insists on finding Sam and Sharon to also say goodbye, and Tony somehow produces the owner of the club who wants to thank them for coming and bringing so much publicity, and it's all overwhelming to a point where Wanda is grabbing Vision's hand just for something to ground herself. He doesn't let go even when they move away from the crowd, and when they step into the cold night and she shivers he pulls her closer, shielding her from the cameras of the people still waiting hopefully outside despite the late hour, opening the door of the car before even the driver can.

The drive back to the compound is quiet, just the gentle singing issuing from the radio, and Wanda curls up against the leather upholstery and lets her thoughts drift and her eyes slip closed. She blinks herself awake rather suddenly when her cheek hits something solid, and finds herself slipping into Vision's side like she's meant to be there. "Sorry," she whispers, but his arm just slides around her and moves her closer, and she feels safe enough to let herself nap during the journey, unaware of time passing or anything but the warmth of Vision's chest beneath her cheek.

With every room in darkness, the compound seems unfamiliar as she climbs out of the car, clutching her coat close around herself and hastening to turn on the lights the moment they get inside. Though she makes to head to her room, Vision stops her with a hand on her arm, solemn as he says, "You need to eat, we had dinner before anyone even began to get ready - almost eight hours ago. I will make you something."

Collapsing into the corner of the couch, wrapping her arms around a cushion, Wanda smiles sweetly at him and murmurs, "Thank you." He smiles back, making her heart skip a beat, and turns into the kitchen. She watches him cook dreamily, feeling half-asleep, noticing everything in the way he moves, the concentration in his eyes, how sweet and considerate he is, noticing she wasn't enjoying herself and coming home with her. He could've been lying through his teeth when he said he wasn't enjoying himself, but he still left just so she could go home without being alone. And now he's making her food, just because it's late and he knows she hasn't eaten in a few hours.

He sits by her while she eats the eggs and toast, the silence of the house but for their breathing so soothing, and she leans against him instinctually, enjoying his company and the comforting warmth that spreads through her chest when she's next to him. "Thank you," she says, sliding her fingers through his - never mind any roadblock between her head and her heart, it's almost four o'clock in the morning and she's lost the will to resist. "For everything. Not just tonight. But thank you for coming home with me."

"It was no trouble, Miss Maximoff," he says, and her heart sings at the way he says her name, so soft and filled with gentle, innocent affection. "May I share a truth with you?" She nods, and feels him breathe in deeply before he says, "I wanted to leave too. I was extremely nervous about this outing, and the reason is not simply because I cannot drink, or because I don't look like the rest of our teammates. It is because...I don't know how to dance."

She sits up straight, setting her empty plate on the table, and twists to meet his nervous, guarded gaze. "You've never danced?" she asks, and her mind blurs with memories, colours and shapes and sounds and scents - she remembers perching on her father's feet and twisting around a small room to old musical while her mother laughed, remembers waving her hands and kicking her feet with her brother at a family party, remembers dancing to the rhythm of silence with Pietro in the days when there was nothing else. He shakes his head, and something within her - in later retellings of the story, she'll call it the voice at the back of her mind that moves to the front after two o'clock in the morning and drives all of her actions - has her saying, "I'll teach you."

Standing up, she grips his hand tighter, tugging until he gets to his feet, looking down at her so reverently that it stutters her breath. Finding the speakers Clint was using earlier, she clicks through his music choices until she spots a playlist named _Date Night_ , hits play and smiles at the song that begins, turning back to Vision as the speakers softly warble, " _Now I've had the time of my life. No, I've never felt this way before."_

She smiles up at Vision, and sees that his face has become darker, almost as if he's _blushing_. He can't meet her eyes as he murmurs, "I really don't know what to do, Miss Maximoff," and she can only smile, helplessly enchanted. Taking his hands, she links their right hands together, determined not to allow her cheeks to flush at the contact, swallowing to wet her suddenly dry throat, and positions his left hand at the small of her back, the skin to skin contact making her heart beat as quickly as if she's running. "This is not how our friends were dancing together tonight," Vision remarks, and she laughs softly.

"I don't have much practice dancing in clubs," she explains, moving closer so there's very little space between them, trying desperately to maintain her composure as it slips away like water through cupped hands. "But slow dancing, I can show you. It's better this way, anyway. Prettier and sweeter and more enjoyable to watch."

As the song swirls like smoke around them, enveloping them in the dreamy romanticism of the lyrics and the beat that seems so natural to move to, she tutors him in a soft voice, leading him in a slow circle around the room, their eyes never leaving each other's, and with every step her heart beats faster and louder until she's sure he can hear it. The song bleeds into another, a man singing about loving someone until they're seventy, and then another, a woman painting a picture of realising one's feelings for another in the silence, and then she's not listening to the lyrics anymore, only hearing the vague sounds of music to keep them moving, swaying together like trees in the wind, and his arm tightens around, drawing her closer, and they're both lost in each other's eyes. No one could tell her how long it's been since they began dancing, but the song playing is completely different as they stop completely, the lyrics all about being in love with a best friend, and Vision is looking so deeply into her eyes she can feel it down to her bones, and she can't breathe with it.

She makes to move away, to break the thread of tension stretching so thin between them, but she can't tear her gaze away from his, her breathing going shallow and a blush creeping up her neck. All he has to say is her name, shaped so perfectly, her first name, he never calls _anyone_ by their first name, always respectful, and she surrenders. Curves her hand to his cheek and rises on her toes to kiss him, and he drops her hand to curve his arms tighter around her waist as hers wrap around his neck, and her heart is beating so fast it seems about the burst through the cage of her body and flutter away on wings light with love. They've been careening towards this for so long, a perfectly beautiful first kiss late at night with the moonlight streaming through the windows and the speakers ringing out with, " _My head spinning around I can't see clear no more. What are you waiting for?"_

Vision pulls away first, and she keeps her eyes closed for as long as possible, savouring the moment, until his hand brushes her cheek and she slowly lets herself sink back into reality, her lips still tingling, and looks up into his eyes. "Hi," she breathes, and the words that slip from her lips next surprise even her, causing a blush to rise rapidly in her cheeks, staining them red as the lipstick that no longer seems to be on her mouth alone. "I love you."

He smiles, pulls her even closer so there's no space between their bodies, and say, "You know, Wanda, I think I rather like slow dancing," and silences her sudden, joyful laugh with another kiss, holding her so tightly she's brought off her feet, and she's smiling against his mouth, and it seems as if the moment will never end, simply carry on being this perfect.

A clatter, the sound of the door crashing against the wall, and Clint's voice positively bellowing, "We have pizza!" They don't have time to break apart before a motley crew comes crashing into the kitchen, and when Wanda breaks the kiss it's to see Sam, and most of their friends, staring at them with round, shocked eyes.

Silence prevails, until Natasha breaks it with a triumphant caw of a laugh and holds her hand out to Clint. "Pay up, Barton," she says, and Clint clutches the pizza box close to his chest as he digs a bill out of his wallet and places it in her palm. She pockets it smugly, and glances around at the half-circle of amazed faces. "You lot are all completely oblivious to what's happening right under your nose. Next you'll be telling me none of you realised Clint and I have been seeing each other since we started working at SHIELD together."

"You guys are a _couple_?" Sam yelps suddenly, and Sharon is laughing at him, and steering him with remarkable haste towards his room, and Natasha rolls her eyes and vanishes into her own room. Wanda remains in Vision's arms as she watches everyone drift into their rooms, unsteady on their feet, until only Clint remains smiling vaguely at them, still clutching the pizza box.

And then he opens his mouth and sings, " _Love, love, love's lookin' good, good, good on you. Well can you feel it, oh everybody sees it,"_ and Wanda is laughing as he looks pleased with himself and finally leaves them alone, shaking with the force of it.

Vision runs a gentle hand down the length of her spine, a caress that makes her shiver, and says, "You should go to bed. It's very late." She smiles, and kisses him once more because she can now, light as a feather and achingly sweet and making her heartbeat jump, and leaves her hand in his as they walk to the bedrooms, listening to the sounds of people humming as they get ready for bed. She's about to leave him, albeit reluctantly, when he looks into her eyes once again and breathes for only her to hear, "I love you too."

And she moves back into his arms, unwilling to ever leave them.

* * *

 **A/N:**  Hope you enjoyed it! :) Bonus points to anyone who can guess any/every song described in the dancing scene (yes, I do know what each of them were.) Lyrics were pulled from  _Home_ by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes,  _(I've Had) Time Of My Life_ from Dirty Dancing, _Love Me Like You Do_ by Ellie Goulding and  _Love's Lookin' Good On You_ by Lady Antebellum.

 


End file.
